


Nothing Else Better to Do

by NinjaFairy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: At least I think it's porn with plot, Dominance, F/M, I mean I could be wrong, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rituals, Time Travel, actually this is probably just straight up porn, but from the male perspective, jazz hands, yeah ignore me it's just porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 22:36:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13176642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinjaFairy/pseuds/NinjaFairy
Summary: Tom Marvolo Riddle was supposed to be looking for Rowena Raveclaw's Diadem to make his next horcrux. Instead, he was spending his 25th birthday stuck inside a shitty cabin in Romania during a blizzard, getting utterly sloshed. Why?Because he had absolutely nothing else better to do.





	Nothing Else Better to Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RadiantInnocence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiantInnocence/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [ChampagneandCountdowns](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ChampagneandCountdowns) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
> 
> New Year’s Eve is the perfect time to seal the ritual for this dark wizard. Brownie points for steaminess.
> 
> **A/N:** This piece is part of the Champagne and Countdowns OS Competition 2017 with Beyond the Nook Fanfiction Nook. I had a choice of New Year centric prompts the Admins of the group created. All characters from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling.

 

* * *

What a _shitty_ birthday.

Honestly, what could be worse than being snowed in inside a filthy cabin in the middle of nowhere? Now that he thought of it, there could be many things worse than this, but he was going to ignore them all, and wallow in his self-pity and alcohol until he drowned. There wasn’t anything else better to do, was there?

No, absolutely not - nothing else better to do at all.

The amber liquid sitting at the bottom of the glass tumbler vibrated with small shockwaves each time his finger tapped against the glass. He had his cheek lying flat against a wooden table as he continued staring at his tumbler. His eyes had begun to cross slightly from his blood saturating the alcohol like a sponge.

Tom Marvolo Riddle thought that he probably shouldn’t have had more than two shots, but what difference did it make now? He was by himself in an old, wooden cabin in the middle of nowhere in Romania during a blizzard. Plus, it was New Year’s Eve _and_ it was his birthday. That was more than enough reason to celebrate, right? He scoffed. Not like he had much in the way to _celebrate,_ of course.

He sat back up a bit too quickly. He knew, because the room shifted a bit to the right before his vision realigned itself. He knocked his head back to down the rest of the liquid, then threw the tumbler into the crackling fireplace. The sound of shattering glass and popping noises from the fire was mildly comforting. _Mildly_.

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips when he hung his head back against his chair. Tom was aimlessly staring at the ceiling, wondering where he’d gone wrong. Here he was, wasting precious time stuck in a blizzard, instead of being out in the forests of Romania, looking for Ravenclaw’s _bloody_ diadem. He'd already been searching for _three bloody weeks_. The fact that it was his 25 th birthday didn’t help matters any – it was a reminder of his impermanence. Seven was the most magical number; and, as of right now, he was only four horcruxes into his immortality. Four wasn’t enough. _It just wasn’t enough_.

After he’d finally accepted that there wasn’t anything else better to do, he decided to ransack the small library in the cabin. Tom had… _acquired_ the cabin from a hermit wizard just last week. He knew it was alright, because he knew no one would miss the old man. No one would even know he was gone. Honestly, he’d almost forgotten, himself. Tom shivered - not being remembered wasn't something he liked to think of.

He didn’t bother reading the titles, and just grabbed a book at random. He sat back down in the chair, and began scouring through the pages. His eyebrows raised up curiously when he came across something of interest.

It was a ritual. An obscure ritual, but a curious one, at that. Tom flipped the book to look back at the cover, and frowned when he didn’t see a title. He opened it back to the page he was on, and his vision blurred momentarily as he tried to focus on the text. That’s when he noticed something – it was all handwritten. _The hermit must have created this._ Interesting.

Tom’s frown deepened as he read more. The ritual was _very_ obscure. The hermit had created a ritual to give the caster what they needed the most at the time. Tom immediately thought that the ritual might benefit him, but he wasn’t putting too much stock into it. Not when it used simple ingredients like sage, black candles, and chalk – not when all he had to do was draw a few runes, and say a simple incantation. It almost looked like something a first-year Hogwarts student would create.

A puff of air escaped out his nostrils in amusement. He was bored, with nothing else better to do; so, why not? He was fairly certain he'd seen all the ingredients lying about. He managed to make his way through the cabin with only stumbling _once_ , thank you very much.

After he'd collected all the materials, he dropped clumsily to his knees, and dropped the ingredients for the ritual in front of him with a loud clatter. _Bloody bourbon_ , he thought as he swayed slightly before catching his balance again.

Tom opened the book in front of him, and started drawing a large circle in chalk on the wooden floor. Then, he added the runes listed in the book. Unfortunately, he lost his balance while leaning forward and the chalk screeched against the wood.

“Fuck,” he winced when the noise assaulted his ears.

He quickly smudged out his mistake with his sleeve, and fixed it. _Perfect._

After that, he arranged the black candles in their places, then started burning the sage after he’d set the magicked crystal quartz in the center of the circle. He felt _incredibly_ idiotic for actually doing this, but it was worth a shot.

With this notion in mind, he pulled his wand out, and started waving it in the pattern specified in the poorly drawn diagrams. Tom chewed on his bottom lip, hoping he was doing this right and wasn't making a fool out of himself. At least no one would be around to witness his idiocy, but himself. It was a small consolation, to be sure.

He tried his best not to slur his speech as he chanted the incantation. It was simple Latin, so he was sure that he hadn’t made a mistake. After he was done, he frowned slightly. Nothing was happening. _Nothing._

Tom sighed, and rolled his eyes - which was a mistake. The room spun to the left this time, so he plopped down in the armchair again to wait for the room to stop moving. That’s when something odd happened.

The crystal sitting in the middle of the circle had begun to glow white. He leaned forward slightly in the chair, and squinted at it, not entirely sure if what he was seeing was real. _Was it real, or was he just **really** sloshed?_

He watched in a detached sort of fascination as it glowed brighter, and brighter. The light glowed bright enough where he had to shield his eyes with his forearm. While he was shielding his eyes, he heard a loud pop.

Once the light died down, he moved his arm away from his face, and let his eyes adjust. It only took a few moments, but it wasn’t long enough for him to adjust to the shock of what he was seeing before him in the center of the circle.

There, right in front of him, was a woman wearing the most scandalous black dress he had ever seen. Her back was to him; and for that, he was glad, because his mouth was hanging wide open. Tom Marvolo Riddle did _not_ gawk; and yet, he was.

His eyes traveled over her. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with staring, but he was a bit inebriated at the moment. He started at her black heels, which led up, up, up those _legs_ that never seemed to end _,_ until they eventually stopped at the edge of her _ridiculously_ short dress. If one could even call it a dress - one might just call it a second layer of skin, because that’s what it practically was. He could see every curve of her – well, _everything_.

It was her hair that got his attention first, though. He’d never seen such riotous, brown curls before in his entire life. In his drunken haze, he briefly wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through them and _pull_. He shook the thought out of his head when he realized she was speaking.

“Well, _fuck_. This isn’t my flat. Where did I apparate to? _Fuck,_ ” she asked herself, and turned her head to take in her surroundings.

Tom’s eyebrows raised in surprise at her statement, and at her choice of language. She dressed scandalously, and _spoke_ scandalously. _Apparate?_ That meant she was a witch. Fear gripped Tom. Had he been discovered? Had he made a mistake in assuming that no one would really miss the hermit? Tom grasped his wand in his hand, but kept it out of view. She appeared to be lost, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

He was seriously regretting getting drunk now.

That’s when she turned sharply to the right, and spilled some of her champagne she was holding in a glass flute onto the floor. Tom frowned slightly when the champagne splattered, annoyed at how clumsy the woman was being. “I hope you plan on cleaning that up,” he told her.

At this, the woman spun around to face him, and nearly jumped out of her skin. _Well, not that second skin_ , Tom mused.

“Bloody _Hell_ , you frightened me!” she said with wide eyes.

“I should be the frightened one here. I’m not the one apparating into other people’s homes, spilling champagne everywhere,” Tom said pointedly with a raised brow. At this, the woman blushed.

“Oh, Merlin. I’m _so_ sorry,” she said, then pulled her wand out from between her breasts. Tom nearly choked on his saliva. What was _wrong_ with this woman? She kept her wand _there?_ Of all places? He raised his eyebrows in disbelief when she waved her wand over the mess, and cleaned it up... _wordlessly._

“Nonverbal?” he asked curiously.

“Huh?” she asked and her eyebrows scrunched together, as if she was trying to comprehend what he’d just asked. The light came on in her eyes and she said, “Oh! Yes. I’m a little... _out of sorts_ at the moment, so I needed my wand this time.”

Tom wasn’t sure if his eyebrows could shoot up any further. He licked his lips unconsciously. “You can perform wand-less _and_ nonverbal magic?” he asked skeptically.

She gave him a nasty frown. That’s when Tom _knew_ he had offended her. His heartbeat picked up for some unknown reason when she put her wand back in between her breasts, and put her free hand on her hip. She was full of attitude and he wasn’t entirely sure if he liked it, or if it irritated him.

“ _Yes_ , as a matter of fact, I can. _And_ I happen to be very good at it, thank you very much,” she said in a superior tone. Tom found himself both equally fascinated by her, and wanting to tear her down from her self-made pedestal.

“Is that so?” he asked humorously.

The woman pouted, then downed the rest of her champagne in two gulps. Tom stared. She stumbled when she walked over, plopped down in the chair across from him on the other side of the table, and set the flute down.

“Alright,” she said. Then, she tore her heels off, tossed them to the floor, leaned back, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Tom looked at her in confusion. His vision of her blurred for just a moment. He was cursing the fact that he’d had that Wizard’s Bourbon now. If he had known this was going to happen, he wouldn’t have drunk it. He _rarely_ drank; but of course, he chose tonight, of all nights.

He’d thought he’d had nothing else better to do, but apparently, that was false.

She pointed at him with her chin once, and looked utterly defiant. “Let’s see, then.”

_Oh._ She wanted him to prove his magic to her? He felt the corners of his mouth furl up mischievously. Without saying a word, he winked at her once and her champagne flute vanished.

Her eyes went wide and she spluttered. “H-how did - what?” She grasped the edge of the table with her hands, and looked underneath the table. She shot back up, and whispered to herself, “I must be more drunk than I thought I was.”

Tom chuckled at her, which caused her eyes to shoot at him. She narrowed her eyes at him, and tilted her head to the side. “You know, you’re kind of pretty. For a man,” she blurted out suddenly.

This made him raise his eyebrows at her. She was awfully bold. It was…different behavior than he was used to from most women. His eyes roved over her body and she squirmed underneath his gaze. The corner of his mouth curved up at her. “Is that _you_ talking, or is it the champagne?”

He took enjoyment out of her face turning an even deeper shade of red. He decided then that she was rather nice to look at, _especially_ in that dress. Mostly, he just wanted to know what it felt like to tug on those curls.

She stood up suddenly, and pulled the bottom of her dress back down. Pity. “It was probably the champagne. Well, I’m sorry to have intruded on you in your home during New Year’s Eve. I’ll be out of your hair now.”

Tom wasn’t sure what he was feeling when he saw her pulling her wand back out from between her breasts. He also wasn’t sure why he leapt up from his chair to stop her from apparating, but he did. She stared at him in shock when he grabbed her wand arm.

“Excuse me? I’d like to get back to my flat. I had a rather awful night before showing up here and I’d just like to go home now,” she said and she swayed slightly on her bare feet. She was awfully short without her heels. He’d be lying if he didn’t find their height difference a bit of a turn-on.

Tom let go of her wrist. What was he thinking? “I apologize. I haven’t had that great of a night, either; so, any kind of company would be welcome right now.”

After all, he had nothing else better to do.

She eyed him warily. He could see where her thoughts were going without even using Legilimency on her. She probably assumed that he was interested in only one thing – which wasn’t true, of course. He was interested in _multiple_ things. Was she here purely by accident, or did it have something to do with the ritual? Did she know where the diadem was? He wanted to find out and he would trick her into staying for a bit longer, if he could. Just long enough to use legilimency on her, then he’d send her on her way. 

“Why has your night been awful?” she asked as she lowered her wand.

Tom smiled charmingly. _Hook, line, and sinker_.

“Well, I wouldn’t say _awful_ , per se. Just a bit dull. Not particularly fun to be stuck at home by yourself on your birthday,” he said with mock sadness.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “It’s your birthday?”

Tom smiled sadly. “Yes, but it’s of no consequence. My night has already turned out much better than I was anticipating.” 

That blush again, dear _Merlin_ , it was spreading down to her neck and chest. The alcohol made her sway to the right and he reached out a hand to steady her. He let his hand linger on her bare arm as he led her back to her seat. She didn’t resist him at all. Once they were both sitting back down, he asked, “So, why was your night awful, Miss…?”

“Hermione,” she offered without hesitation.

“ _Hermione_ ,” he repeated, tasting her name. It was delicious. He wondered what else she tasted like. “My name is Tom.”

“ _Tom_ ,” she repeated. He found his name didn’t sound as ordinary coming from her lips.

“Yes,” he smiled at her. “Could I offer you anything to drink, Hermione?”

She hesitated. “I don’t think so, thank you. I’ve already had enough to drink as it is. No need to be completely sloshed beyond comprehension,” she joked nervously. “I _really_ should be going, though.”

_No._ He smiled at her again. His hand rested in his chin, while he looked at her intently. He already knew she found him attractive, so he was going to milk that cow until it was dry and dead at his feet.

“But you haven’t even told me why your night has been awful, Hermione,” he teased. “I can’t imagine it being _that_ bad; not when you’re wearing something like _that_.” 

If Tom had been expecting Hermione to blush again, he was sorely mistaken. Her unsure face hardened. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or her sudden anger that loosened her tongue.

“Oh, my night wasn’t _that_ awful. Unless, of course, you would consider catching your boyfriend practically _shagging_ his ex-girlfriend against the bathroom sink at the party you showed up at _together_ being awful – then, yes. Yes, it was pretty bloody awful,” she said bitterly.

Tom let his hand fall from his chin in surprise. His next words came out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying, “Your boyfriend was trying to shag another woman with you looking like _this?”_

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise at his forwardness. Well, she wasn’t the only one who was surprised. Oh, well. Now it was out there in the open. Her face went back to being agitated quickly.

“Well, _ex_ -boyfriend now, I suppose,” she shrugged. She eyed him curiously. “Actually, I think I’ll take that drink now, Tom. Please.”

The corners of his mouth furled up slowly. “Sure,” he said, and with a wave of his hand, he summoned two tumblers and the bottle of bourbon. “Unfortunately,” he said as he poured the drinks. “I only have Wizard’s Bourbon at the moment. I hope that’s alright?”

Hermione didn’t say anything. She angrily picked up her glass, threw her head back, and downed the alcohol in one swig. Tom watched in impressed shock when she slammed the empty glass back down.

“Oh, it’s _perfectly_ fine, Tom. Could I have another, please?” she asked in the most harshly polite tone he’d ever heard.

“Uh…sure,” he said in an amused tone, and poured her some more. He put the stopper back on the bottle, and vanished it before the woman killed herself. He wanted her inebriated, not _dead_. He couldn’t read the mind of a dead person. Honestly, he didn’t understand why he was stalling. It’s not as if they were in a public setting. He could easily torture the information out of her, but something was stopping him. Maybe it was curiosity.

He slowly sipped out of his tumbler, and watched her. She didn’t down that drink like the last one. He could tell that she was thinking, and thinking hard. Almost as if she was having an inner war with herself. It was quite entertaining. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t underneath the Crucio curse right now. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted her underneath him, instead.

After all, he had nothing else better to do.

“It’s just…who does he think he is? Do you know how long we’ve been together for?” she asked.

Tom went to open his mouth to say that he didn’t have a clue, but she cut him off. _Rhetorical question, of course._

“ _Seven_! Ronald and I have been together for seven years now! Has he asked me to marry him? No! Bloody Hell, we don’t even _live_ together! He’s just so…so…so-” she fumbled with her words.

“Idiotic. Foolish. Witless. Brainless. Ignorant. Need I go on?”

Hermione took another sip of her bourbon, and set the glass down. “No, I think you’ve pretty much nailed it.”

Tom’s eyebrows creased together in confusion. “Nailed it?”

Hermione’s tongue darted out to lick the alcohol off her lips. Tom watched her. “Yes. Nailed it. _Right_ on the head.”

His frown deepened, but then he quickly recovered. “You’re an odd one, aren’t you?”

“You’re one to talk,” she said bluntly, then decided to openly take in her surroundings. “This place looks like it was pulled out of one of my grandfather’s hunting magazines. Very, eh… _rustic._ ”

“I enjoy the simpler things in life,” he lied smoothly.

“And you’re also a liar,” she crooned. “Do those simpler things in life include black candles, and runes drawn on the floor? It’s the crudest summoning ritual I’ve ever seen. Looks like a first year did it,” Hermione smirked over the lip of her glass with a raised eyebrow before taking another small sip of her drink. She was sizing him up with barely concealed curiosity.

Tom stilled for a moment before his mouth twitched at the corner. Oh, she was clever; not for noticing the items on the floor, but for her knowing he was doing something most witches and wizards wouldn’t dare do. He knew. The implication was clear in her voice. It was all he needed to hear.

“I’ve been searching for something, but I haven’t been able to find it,” he said with a small smile, and leaned his arms on the table to bring himself closer to her. “The ritual is supposed to help me find it.”

Hermione set her glass on the table, and leaned forward, too. “And did you find it yet?” she asked quietly, searching his face for any clues.

His eyes flicked down when she licked her lips, then he looked back into her amber eyes as he leaned even closer. He thought carefully about his next words. He wanted to make his implications clear. “I think I just might have.”

To say he was shocked when Hermione surged forward across the table to kiss him would be the understatement of the century, but it was a shock that he would gladly admit to. He liked the way she pushed their drinks to the floor, and liked the way she didn’t even _flinch_ when they shattered. He liked the way she’d crawled _across_ the table to get closer to him, because going around just simply wasn’t fast enough for her. He liked the way she crawled into his lap, but he wasn’t going to allow her to do that just yet.

Tom grabbed her by the hips, and threw her back onto the table. Hermione let out a shriek when her back hit the wood. She lifted her head up to look at him in disbelief. “What the hell!?”

He clicked his tongue at her from his seat and said, “Patience, Hermione. You’re used to being the dominant one, aren’t you?”

His hands traveled up her legs, his thumbs grazing the inside of her thighs as he slowly pushed her dress up further, further, further. His right thumb hit what _should_ have been knickers, but he hit her wet folds instead. Tom’s eyes shot up to hers in surprise.

She was smirking down at him now. “Maybe I am.”

His mouth fell open as he stared up at her smug face. His already hard cock twitched. He wanted to wipe her smugness away; so, he ran a slow circle around her clit with his thumb, and watched the way her head fell back against the table with a dull thud.

“Oh,” she moaned.

“What were you saying? I didn’t quite catch that,” he said in amusement as he circled his thumb over her clit faster.

“I _said_ – ah!”

Hermione never got to finish her sentence, because Tom had grabbed her hips, pulled her arse to the edge of the table, and put his head between her legs. She tried to move closer, but he slammed her hips back down, and refused to let her move. He barely flicked his tongue over her clit again and again and again until she was _shaking_ underneath his grasp.

Hermione’s hands ran through his hair and she tried to shove his face closer, but each time she tried, he’d stop. He wanted her to _beg_ him for it.

_Beg for me, Hermione._

“Oh, my God. _Please_.”

That wasn’t good enough, but he still allowed his tongue to slowly, _ever so slowly_ , circle around her clit once, twice, thrice before he stopped again. “Please _what_ , Hermione?” he looked up at her when he asked.

Hermione lifted her head up from the table to look at him and dear _Merlin_ , did she look glorious. He took enjoyment out of knowing that he was doing this to her. “ _Please_ , Tom,” her head fell back against the table and she turned her head side to side in exasperation. “Please, please, please. Oh, my fucking _God_ , just _please_.”

_Merlin_ , he loved her foul mouth. He pursed his lips, and thought he should probably reward her for it. And so, he did. Her hands pulled at his curls as he licked her again and again and she cried out when he slid two fingers into her. Her back arched off the table, but he pushed her back down again. “None of that, darling. Stay put.”

He almost groaned when he felt her clench around his fingers at his command. His cock was painful against his trousers and he needed release. He moved his hand from her hip to start fumbling with his belt, but the instant he did, she tried to shove her hips into his face again.

Tom rumbled deep in his throat, and used his wandless magic to push her back down to hold her still. He lifted his head up to level his gaze on hers and he hissed out between clenched teeth, “I…said…to…stay…put. Do I need to repeat myself, Hermione?”

He was still pumping his fingers in and out of her when he asked. There was a trace of defiance in her lust-filled gaze. Good. He didn’t want it completely gone, but she still hadn’t answered him; so, he curled his fingers inside of her. She clenched around his fingers again, and moaned. “Answer me, darling. Do I need to repeat myself?”

She still refused to answer, so he ran his tongue torturously over her clit again until she did. “N-no. Just, Tom – _please._ ”

He finished unbuckling himself, and sighed when he had his cock in his hand. “Good girl. All you have to do is stay still. As long as you stay still, I won’t stop. Do you understand, Hermione?”

She lifted her head up to look at him again. The way the fire reflected off the sheen that had built up on her skin made him feel something carnal. It was all he could do to control himself, _not_ turn her over, and take her right there. Instead, he rolled his palm over the head of his already dripping cock until she finally answered, “Yes, I understand.”

Normally, he would have said something smart or smirk at her, but he couldn’t control himself. He dove back down to her, and slaved over her while he stroked himself. She was good at staying still, but oh _Merlin_ the way she cried _out_ like that drove him mad. The alcohol was making his release drag out and it must have been making hers drag out, too. Or, it could have been him, because each time he felt her getting close, he’d slow down his pace. He was pissing her off, he knew.

He had nothing else better to do, though.

“ _Tom_ ,” she nearly screamed out and he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled his fingers out of her, grabbed her by her waist. “Sit up.”

Hermione shakily propped herself up on the table, but it wasn’t fast enough for him. Tom hauled her down onto his lap to straddle him in the chair. She grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself, since her toes didn’t quite reach the floor; and _oh_ , Merlin, when she did, her wetness pressed against the shaft of his cock and he _groaned_.

Hermione grabbed a hold of his face with both hands, and kissed him as she purposefully moved her hips up against him. Tom grasped her waist to still her movements, and broke away from her lips. “What did I say about staying still, Hermione?”

She glared at him. With a flick of her wrist, he found his arms pushed away from her hips, and practically glued to his sides. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move them. Tom rarely felt panic, but right now, he felt panic. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, _darling_. You can’t have all the fun; now, can you?” she asked with a sly grin as she started unbuttoning his shirt. His belly twinged and he hated it and he hated her and he _loved_ it. Who _was_ she?

Tom stared into her eyes when she grabbed him firmly, and positioned him at her opening. He should use this moment to use legilimency on her, he should just focus and –

“Oh, _Merlin_ ,” he groaned. His head fell back against the chair when she started rubbed his head slowly across the folds of her wet opening. He jerked his hips up, but she pushed him back down again.

Hermione clicked her tongue and said with a smile, “What do you say, _darling_?”

Tom's head snapped back up.

_What?_

She could _not_ be serious.

Tom Marvolo Riddle didn’t _beg_. He just _didn’t._

Hermione slid his cock into her halfway before pulling him back out again. He bit back his moan, and glared at her. He wouldn’t say it. She couldn’t make him say it, she couldn’t –

She slid back down on him again, but all the way this time, and didn’t move. He wanted her to move. “What do you say, Tom?”

He gritted his teeth together. “ _Move._ ”

Hermione shrugged one shoulder and said, “Alright.” She slid him back out completely, and looked at him innocently with her big, beautiful, fucking _stupid_ – she slid against him again.

“ _Please!_ ”

Okay, so, maybe Tom Marvolo Riddle _did_ beg.

Hermione smiled, and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Good boy.”

He continued glaring at her, but immediately stopped once she slid his cock back into her again, and started rolling her hips against his.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” he groaned. He went to move his arms to touch her, and almost forgot that his arms were still magically bound to the sides of the chair. “Hermione. Unbind me.”

She continued rocking against him and breathed out a raspy, “No.”

Tom leaned forward, and bit down on her shoulder. She cried out, and it distracted her long enough to lose focus on his binds. His hands were on her in an instant.

First, he yanked down the top of her dress, and grabbed one of her breasts; then, he put his mouth on one of them, and swirled his tongue around her nipple. She threw her head back, and moaned as she rode him faster and harder and he could feel her clenching tighter, tighter, _tighter_ around him. It felt _so damn_ good, but it was beginning to get uncomfortable. The pressure was building up, more and more and more. He wanted to move; he _needed_ to move.

And so, he did.

Tom moved his hands to her hips, moved his mouth to the crook of her neck, and thrust his hips upward as fast as he could. Over and over and over again he plunged into her and he bit down onto her neck and he pulled and pushed her down onto him and _fuck_ –

He slammed her hips down onto him hard and Hermione buried her face into his shoulder, and _screamed_. He grabbed a fistful of her curls, and yanked her back so her face was inches from hers. “No, I want to _see_ you come undone for me, Hermione,” he hissed.

His mouth fell open with a shudder when he felt her muscles tighten around him and the corners of her lips curled up mischievously. “So do I.”

“Fucking hell,” he snarled, and captured her lips again.

Soon, he was swallowing her cries with his lips.

Shortly thereafter, she was swallowing his, too.

Hermione slumped against him and he didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want _her_ to get up. He wondered if this was the only time he’d ever get to be inside of her and he didn’t like the thought of that.

Tom decided that his 25th birthday hadn’t turned out _so_ bad. He’d also decided that he’d find some way to convince her to stay. And if he couldn’t convince her, then he’d just _make_ her.

After all, he had nothing else better to do.


End file.
